


The Only Thing

by Lif61 (UltimateFandomTrash)



Series: Banned Together Bingo 2020 [17]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Beating, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Choking, Dark, Dead Body, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dean Winchester Whump, Double Anal Penetration, Dry Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Fainting, Forced Nudity, Gang Rape, Gore, Graphic Description, Hurt Dean Winchester, Implied/Referenced Animal Attack, Injury, Insults, M/M, Non-Consensual, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Touching, POV Dean Winchester, Pain, Painful Sex, Partial Nudity, Past Child Abuse, Possession, Possession of Dead Body, Rape, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Torture, Unsafe Sex, Violence, Violent Sex, Violent Thoughts, Whump, gagging, no happy ending, self degradation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:46:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29080323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateFandomTrash/pseuds/Lif61
Summary: After days of hunting Dean, Arthur Ketch and Belphegor finally catch up to him.
Relationships: Arthur Ketch/Dean Winchester, Belphegor/Dean Winchester, Non-Consensual Pairings
Series: Banned Together Bingo 2020 [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1916230
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19
Collections: Banned Together Bingo 2020





	The Only Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Banned Together Bingo 2020 | Gay Gang Rape
> 
>   
> 

Dean had done everything he could to escape his fate, but eventually, he’d been cornered. After being on the run for days, Belphegor and Arthur Ketch had caught up to him. It was fucked up that they were working together, but they had a common goal: _Dean_. They wanted him. Dean had known it, and yet, with them hunting him, he’d gone out on his own anyway.

_Dumbass! Fucking stupid son of a bitch!_

They’d caught up to him outside a closed bar so early in the morning it would be another hour or two before the sky turned gray with pre-dawn light.

Backed against the brick wall, Dean said, “Evenin’, fellas.”

He tried reaching for the gun in the waistband of his pants, but Ketch held out his hand.

“Give it here.”

“Why?”

Belphegor took out a knife.

Dean raised his eyebrows, and nodded. “Okay, yeah, guess that’s convincing enough.”

Heart pounding, mouth dry, eyes frantically searching for exits, Dean took his pistol from the waistband of his pants. After putting it on the ground he considered not kicking it over, but then Ketch drew his own gun. What was with these guys and threats of physical violence? They were already planning on hurting him, so why not just do it?

Rolling his eyes, Dean kicked the gun over.

“All right, you have me. I know what you want. I guess we should get down to business.”

Somehow the words came out of his mouth clear and even, surprising his two soon-to-be attackers.

“Come on, Dean,” Ketch hedged, “I know you want to fight.”

“Yeah? And why would I be stupid enough to do that?”

Belphegor stepped up, wearing the skin of his dead son, charred, empty eye sockets covered by sunglasses. A darkly amused grin that Dean had seen one too many times was on his face. “I’m sure you don’t want us to rape you.”

“Oh, rape?” Dean questioned as if he didn’t know that’s what they intended. “Wow. Fellas, I gotta say, that’s… genius morality right there. Awesome.”

“Enough of this,” Ketch growled.

He charged at Dean, and as he was about to whack him across the face with his gun, Dean’s body worked on instinct. He grabbed Ketch’s wrist and the struggle began. Dean punched, and kneed, and blocked blows, and took others, but eventually, Belphegor grabbed him by his hair, held his head back, and put his knife to his throat. Bleeding from multiple injuries, and skin bruising and swelling, Dean couldn’t do anything now. He tried to catch his breath as blood from his broken nose filled his throat.

Vision blurred with exhaustion, they shoved Dean onto the ground. He fell, hard, skinning his palms and his knees. He winced, trying to push himself up, and that earned him a hard kick in the gut that forced all his air out.

_Fuck!_

Dean’s voice was choked and strangled, and just when the pain was starting to lessen by at least one percent, someone stomped on his back over his kidneys.

It was like getting run over by a tire, and now Dean really couldn’t get up.

He screamed and scrabbled at the asphalt as they started in on his belt and jeans, but together, they held him down.

Dean was a whimpering mess by the time he felt Ketch’s cock lining up to enter him. _God, no lube? No preparation?_

God, yep, they weren’t doing that.

Ketch shoved himself into Dean, and Belphegor put a strangling hand over Dean’s mouth, muffling his screams. His thumb was against his broken nose, which was one of the many reasons his body was now attempting to sob.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Dean tried to kick, tried to do _anything_ , but Ketch was _in him_. _He was in him and there wasn’t a thing he could do._

They spoke to him—well, _at him_ would be more precise. The things they called him and said to him would be enough to make the Devil blush.

Ketch pulled out, leaving Dean writhing on the ground, and sobbing. Blood trickled down to his balls, and his cock was bruised and cut up from being forced against the unforgiving ground (who’d even decided asphalt should be so rough anyway? Maybe he should find that ghost and kill them, just to make sure they were _really dead_ ). The demon and the fucking hunter (a _hunter_ ), switched places, though they weren’t nearly done with him yet. When Ketch held Dean down with one hand, Dean could clearly hear him using his free hand to pump his cock that was wet with his blood.

Belphegor was worse. He was rough and unforgiving, and his whole body kept trembling as if he was holding in a scream of utmost pleasure. And he was in Jack’s dead body.

He missed Hell.

Dean wasn’t sure he had understood his own body anymore. He was spread open and penetrated so deeply, and he was swollen and bleeding, and his cock was taking such a beating he would have rathered if someone had just severed him from the waist down. Yeah, that’d be nice. No more pain, no more of getting ridden like he was nothing but a useless animal.

They grabbed his wrists and rolled him over, Dean screaming before Ketch could get a hand over his mouth. He fought them, failing with the way his pants were trapped around his knees, and the way they held him, and Belphegor’s demonic strength. When Ketch got in him again, Belphegor put a foot on Dean’s chest to keep him cowed. He stroked his cock above him, blood dripping onto Dean’s face.

_Just take it like a man, his mind feverishly told him. What are you—a bitch?_

_Yes,_ another part answered.

That’s all he was. He was just something to be fucked and used and thrown away.

Pain searing through him and making him feel like he’d just had a lovely night out getting fucked by a branch, he tried to scream. Belphegor’s foot moved to his throat.

At some point Dean might’ve blacked out. Eventually, he wasn’t sure who was in him, and who wasn’t. Maybe they were fucking him together, both penetrating him at once. Bloodied cocks were forced into his mouth, choking him, making him gag, and he’d seem to lose consciousness from that, unable to breathe.

Dean wanted that dark reprieve of unconsciousness. Wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything in his entire damn life. He’d rather be sixteen again, John’s friends burning him with cigarette butts while they all laughed at him whimpering, than go through this. He’d rather relive getting that gunshot wound just above his knee when he was twenty-five. Would rather he was getting clawed up by a fucking Hellhound.

But there were no cigarettes, or bullets, or hounds. There was a man and a powerful demon. And there was the ruin of Dean’s body.

Dean passed out for good before they were done. He woke up hours later, the sun beating down hot and heavy, sadly reminding him he existed, that he had a body. He couldn’t move, couldn’t even make a sound, as he lay where they’d left him, right behind the dumpster.

Dean just lay there, and he looked at some of the gravel on the asphalt, and he decided that was the only thing that existed.


End file.
